


flatpack

by kellifer_fic



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M, Misunderstandings, Roommates, Slow Build, perceived infidelity although it’s totally not
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-17
Updated: 2014-03-11
Packaged: 2018-01-09 00:27:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1139289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kellifer_fic/pseuds/kellifer_fic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In hindsight, Stiles can kind of understand how it happened.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Based on [this tumblr post](http://kellifer-k.tumblr.com/post/71607625466/things-that-are-on-every-college-campus-ive-visited) of accidental flatmates. _Stiles advertised for a roommate AGES ago and got Scott, but he left the flyer up and one day DEREK appears, asking if the room is still available and Stiles is like, MY GOD, THE HOTNESS MAKES ME BRAIN STUPID and says yes and basically rents out HIS room to Derek_.

In hindsight, Stiles can kind of understand how it happened.

Basically, the words _bike_ and _room_ never came up in the phone conversation, which would have helped a great deal. Instead there'd been _so it's still available_ and _I've been looking for one for a while_ and those kind of generalisations led to Derek Hale sitting in his living room, thinking he was here to see Stiles about a spare room which he doesn't have, instead of a spare bike which he does.

"So tell him, then," Scott says, trying to be annoyingly reasonable about the whole thing. Stiles isn't exactly hiding, but Derek is still in his living room and Stiles barged in on Scott in the shower to have a mini freakout. 

"I caaaaan't," Stiles whines, sitting on the closed toilet seat and dropping his head into his hands. 

Scott didn't bother stopping the shower. He's just a hazy figure through the cheap curtain they put up when Scott got tired of wet feet in the morning. "Why not? It's true and he'll understand. I've been here for three months. We didn't know a flyer was still up about the room."

"Can he hear us?" Stiles asks in a lower voice and Scott sticks his head around the curtain, hair plastered to his forehead and his face scrunched up. 

"I don't think so. Running water is a pretty effective white noise."

"Okay, so here's the thing," Stiles says and Scott gives him the, _I'm not going to like this, am I_ expression that Stiles has become very familiar with over the last few months. Stiles has a lot of... ideas and not all of them are good, even he has to admit. "Derek lost his whole family in a freak fire except for two sisters only a year ago and he hasn't been able to find a place in the city. He's been camping in the ruins of his family home."

"Oh my god," Scott says, looking suitably horrified.

"I _know_ ," Stiles says. "Apparently he's been knocked back from a load of places because of the werewolf thing and he was super relieved to see my charming, _werewolf friendly_ flyer and he's giving me this hopeful, tragic face and I just-"

"You already told him he could live here, didn't you?" Scott asks flatly.

"I have a plan!"

"Of course you do."

"So, he'll stay in my room and I'll live in yours."

Scott blinks at Stiles for a moment. "Where am I going to be?"

"In your room, too. You're my bestie that stays over a lot and besides, you've basically been at Allison's every second day for the last month."

"Stiles, I'm not going anywhere. Not anytime soon. I know what happened with Erica-"

"Yeah, it bit but this is not about that."

"Are you sure?" Scott asks, raising an eyebrow.

"I just keep picturing this guy sitting in front of a little fire, wrapped in a sleeping bag in the wreckage of his former home."

"Why doesn't he stay in a hotel?"

"I... don't know? Maybe he enjoys being Tiny Tim levels of sad."

"He's hot, isn't he?"

"This is in no way about that."

"Stiles!"

"Seriously, even if this guy was covered in a fine layer of moss, I'd still feel like I had to throw him a bone."

"Is there a rest of the plan, because I kind of feel like I'm getting evicted with your current one."

"Oh, no, of course not," Stiles says quickly. "I just thought he could stay in my room until I find him something else. Then the whole, you can't really live here thing, will be a good news/bad news situation. We might even be able to laugh about it."

"This is going to end badly," Scott proclaims, but he returns to his shower without saying anything else so Stiles figures that's about as much of a yes as he's going to get.

"Probably," Stiles agrees.

*

Derek Hale is grouchy in the mornings, doesn't wear a shirt to bed and yes, thank you Scott, is unbelievably hot.

He'd been happy about the furnished bedroom, squishing Stiles' heart into a tiny flattened nub by admitting that he lost most of his stuff in the fire and hadn't gotten around to replacing it. Stiles explains the presence of a lot of his own stuff in the room by claiming it was overflow from his (Scott's) room and Derek had just shrugged and said he could leave it until Derek had more to fill up the space.

"He's an EMT, he has perfect eyebrows and cute little bunny teeth. He's killing me," Stiles laments to Erica at their weekly coffee catch-up. Erica is Stiles' former roommate and the reason he'd become werewolf friendly. He hadn't even known she was a wolf until she'd been living with him for a week and a pushy date of Stiles' had been summarily punted from their apartment by Erica with glowy eyes and bared fangs.

He wasn't afraid to admit that he'd fallen a little bit in love. 

Erica was well and truly spoken for though, so much so that she'd announced she was moving out only six months later to live with her one true boo, Boyd. She'd said she would help Stiles find another roommate, insisted on it when she found out he'd wanted to advertise as WF. Stiles had kind of gotten used to a parade of hot, supernatural beings all up in his space and he hadn't wanted it to end just yet.

He was young and had only just discovered a heretofore unknown kink for getting held up against walls and-

"This is all going to end badly," Erica says when Stiles is done explaining the mess he's gotten himself into.

"Scott keeps saying that, too."

"Who does this Derek think Scott is?"

"Probably by now a pretty bad freeloader," Stiles says, scuffing a hand over his head and groaning. Derek has been cool towards Scott from the beginning and there doesn't seem to be a thaw on the horizon which Stiles can't fathom, considering everyone loves Scott. It's been two weeks and the two of them haven't stayed in the same room for more than a few minutes. 

"Stilinski, let it never be said that you aren't entertaining," Erica says, shaking her head but looking fond. 

"If you could ask around about finding Derek a new place, I'll owe you big time," Stiles says. 

"I'm not making any promises, but I'll see what I can do," Erica says. "How is it bunking in with Scott?"

"He growls in his sleep and does the dog-dreaming feet thing. It's cute as hell but not really conducive to me catching some z's. I'm thinking I might have to couch-surf."

"Well, our pull-out is always yours, whenever you need," Erica says and Stiles reaches across to pick up her hand and squeeze it in thanks.

"As long as Boyd quits watching me sleep," Stiles says after a pause.

"He says you talk, that it's like a hilarious but sometimes disturbing radio play," Erica says, grinning.

"It's creep-pee," Stiles says, popping the 'p' with an exaggerated smack of his lips.

"Stay with Lydia."

"She's on-again with Jackson and he hates me."

"He doesn't hate you."

"He has a weird way of showing affection, then. He sits on me."

"He does not," Erica says, barking out a laugh.

"He totally abuses the werewolf strength thing." Stiles crumbles the cookie that had come with his coffee into fine crumbs with his fingers. "Besides, it might be a little weird if Scott is there and I'm not, considering our cover story."

"You could just tell the guy," Erica says, and what is it with people bringing unwanted logic into his life.

"I want to find him a place first. If I don't, it'll just seem like I'm making excuses to kick him out because I hate him or something."

"He can't think it's the werewolf thing, considering Scott is basically living on top of you."

"Yeah, he'll think it's a _him_ thing. I get the feeling, even though fantastically smoking and lovely, Derek doesn't think much of himself."

"You've gone to a lot of trouble to spare the feelings of someone you don't even know."

"The more I get to know him, the more I _want_ to get to know him, and not just in an adults-only sense if you get my meaning," Stiles says, waggling his eyebrows. His expression drops and he adds, "It might be a little hard to get him to agree to a date after I evict him."

"True," Erica acknowledges, pushing her bangs out of her face with an explosive exhalation.

"Oh, hey! He's a packless Alpha by the way," Stiles says, snapping his fingers. Erica sits up a little, suddenly much more interested. She and Boyd have been without a proper pack for a while and while they're not necessarily suffering, Stiles has come to understand that without the calming link to an Alpha, full moons are a little rougher than they have to be. Erica and Boyd anchor each other, but it's not always enough.

Erica deflates though, after she's had a few moments to think about it. "He's been through a lot of crap lately from what you've told me. I can't imagine he'd want to lump himself with us."

"You never know," Stiles presses. "Come for dinner on the weekend. You guys might hit it off."

"You should invite Jackson and Lydia," Erica decides, nodding.

"Ugh, why?"

"Jackson's the way he is because he doesn't have anyone to... _handle_ him."

"I just thought his douchetasticness was natural."

"He won't magically become a saint, but he might be less of a jerk."

"Worth a shot," Stiles says, rubbing at his chin.

*

There's a post-it stuck to Scott's door when Stiles gets home. _Gone to A's_. Stiles plucks it off and scrunches it, then saunters into the kitchen to see that Derek's making popcorn, humming as he watches the large pot he's set on the stove.

"I didn't take you for a Pussycat Dolls fan," Stiles observes, pulling himself up onto the kitchen bench next to where Derek's rested a hip. He didn't surprise Derek with his presence, you rarely surprise werewolves, but Derek still colors a little like either he hadn't realized he was humming at all, or he wouldn't be busted for what he was humming.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," he hedges, staring into the pot as the popcorn kernels do the fantastic popping thing they do. Stiles is pretty sure they have a bunch of the microwave popcorn packs in the pantry but Derek's got an open bag of kernels by the sink next to a bottle of oil, old-fashioning it.

" _Don't you wish your girlfriend was hot like me_ is pretty distinctive."

"I think it was the last thing playing in the rig before I clocked out," Derek huffs, clicking the heat off on the stove. 

"Movie night?" Stiles asks, sniffing at the heavenly scent as Derek drops a pad of butter onto the top of his popcorn and then pours the whole lot into a large bowl.

"I got the latest season of Criminal Minds on DVD. I was going to watch it, but if you wanted the TV-?"

"No man, totally fine. I love a good crime procedural," Stiles says, reaching a hand for the popcorn and then making a whine of disappointment when Derek deflects by curling the bowl into his body and half-turning. Stiles' fingers skate across the right side of Derek's back and he _really_ didn't need to know how firm and deliciously bumpy his back was.

"Nuh-uh, make your own."

"That bowl you have is bigger than my head."

"I'm a werewolf. We eat a lot," Derek says, completely deadpan, before one side of his lip curls up and he shows a tiny hint of fang. 

Stiles is suddenly, desperately turned on and needs to be away from Derek. Far, _far_ away. He'd decided, with Erica's encouragement, not to hit on Derek while he was still basically lying to him about their living situation. They'd both agreed that it would make things even weirder than they were already.  


_After you sort everything out, then you can throw yourself at him at will_ , Erica had proclaimed and Stiles had seen her point. 

He's about to ruin that resolution.

"I just remembered I have to...uh, I have work," Stiles says, flailing an arm behind himself in the direction of Scott's room. Derek's expression dims a little, but then he seems to rally and smiles, nodding.

"Oh, sure. Look, I was only kidding," he says, proffering the popcorn bowl. 

"I had a late...eating. I'll leave you to it," Stiles says and tries not to analyse the way Derek's face drops even further.

"Sure."

"Oh, hey!" Stiles says, as he pushes himself to the floor and then has to stamp around awkwardly to get the feeling back into his feet. Derek watches him, fighting a genuine smile at his antics. "What are you doing Saturday night?"

Derek's eyebrows shoot up. "Oh, uh, I'm not sure?"

"Just, I was having some friends over for dinner."

Stiles doesn't understand Derek's sad face until he says, "You want me to go out?"

"No, dude! I want you to meet them. I just wanted to check you were free. I'll make the famous Stilinski meatballs."

Derek's face flushes, tentatively pleased. "Oh, cool. That sounds nice," he agrees.

"Awesome," Stiles says and offers an awkward thumbs up. Derek just blinks at him again, before he starts backing towards the living room, like he really wants to escape Stiles' presence too.

Stiles doesn't blame him. He's basically a disaster.

*

"This all sounds very complicated," Allison says, scrunching up her face. Stiles has told the Derek story quite a few times now, he's gotten it down to a neat eight minutes and is probably guilty of embellishing Derek's tragic back-story to make it seem all the more desperate and his own actions reasonable.

Derek has a late shift, so Scott and Allison are hanging out at Stiles and Scott’s apartment. Stiles was surprised to find out that Allison hadn't been told immediately about everything that had happened. "I just don't think I could have explained it right," Scott had said, shrugging.

"So, you guys are bunking in together?" Allison says, eyeing Scott's bedroom doorway with a dubious expression. 

"Completely platonically," Stiles hastens to reassure and Allison snorts, rolling her eyes. 

"Stiles, I wasn't worried about that. I was worried about _you_. Scott's a sleep kicker."

"Oh god, right?" Stiles says, yanking up his track pants leg to show a pretty impressive bruise on his calf. 

"Only last week he knee’d me in the boob. I don't even know how he managed it," Allison says and they're off, commiserating about the minor injuries they've been subjected to braving nocturnal Scott and laughing so hard they're left wheezing. Scott scrunches down in his chair, arms crossed and pouting.

"You didn't tell me, either of you," Scott complains.

"Dude, it's fine. You're a werewolf, you could punch us both into next week but you don't. Some part of you, even when you're sleeping, maintains control. It's actually pretty impressive."

"I usually make a pillow wall if he's particularly active," Allison says and Stiles makes a mental note to try that. 

"We have an air mattress," Scott says to Stiles, pointedly.

"Dude, I wouldn't ask you to sleep on the floor."

"Not for me," Scott says, sounding exasperated. "I'm not the one who gave away my room."

"The air mattress always deflates overnight. Anyone sleeping on it ends up flat on the floor with a ruined back."

"We'll get a new one."

"It'll only be another couple of weeks. Erica's asking around. She'll come through for me, I know it."

"Stiles, it might be harder than you think. Didn't you say Derek was looking for ages before he found this place? Not everyone is as happy to live with werewolves as you. There's still a lot of misconceptions and prejudice," Allison says.

"Well, Erica's probably asking other wolves, so it shouldn't be an issue."

"Dude, I wanted to live with a human. It's weird sharing space with people that aren't pack," Scott says, his eyebrows drawing together.

"I thought you were just charmed by my flyer," Stiles says. 

"Admittedly, it did have a picture of you passed out underneath a beer bottle Christmas tree."

Stiles blinks at Scott for a moment, horrified. "Wait, you called me because of one of _Erica's_ flyers? She made those as a joke and I told her to get rid of them all!" _His_ flyer had been perfectly respectable, with carefully chosen clip art. Erica's flyer had been his number, that picture and the words _for a good time, come live with me - WF_. 

Scott puts a hand over his mouth and Stiles can tell it's to hold in a laugh. Allison's not being so polite, instead making grabby hands. "I have got to see this!" she crows.

"Oh my god, what if it's Erica's flyer that Derek saw? No wonder it was still up. I'm going to kill her!"

"Hey, even if it was Erica's, you've got to admit it was a good flyer if you got two werewolves out of it," Allison points out.

"Just how many of those are still around?" Stiles groans, dropping his head into his hands. 

"Maybe you should ask Erica to go take them down," Scott says. "We don't have any more space for any other hot wolves with sad faces."

"Har, har, you're hilarious," Stiles grumbles into his hands.

*

Stiles has high hopes for Saturday's dinner. Basically, he doesn't think it's too much to ask that upon meeting Derek, everyone is immediately understanding of his need to take the guy in, even given the less than ideal circumstances, and also bond and form a pack right then and there.

The reality isn't quite as positive.

Stiles is amazed that he got everyone to come and he knows now he should have been happy with just that minor achievement. Erica and Boyd are tentatively hopeful, Lydia is curious and Jackson makes out that he's there on sufferance. Scott stays for moral support, even though he's been anti-pack from the moment he was bitten, balking at the idea of a hierarchical structure that would define his life.

Everyone's frighteningly polite to begin with, even Jackson which puts Stiles on edge. The wolves seem to be stuck in a feedback loop of quiet discomfort which just gets worse throughout the evening. The food is a minor high point as everyone enthusiastically devours Stiles' cooking but the rest of the time, he and Lydia are left to carry the conversation. Finally Derek excuses himself, Erica and Boyd leave with Lydia and Jackson following soon after. 

"If I go-?"

"Go on," Stiles sighs, waving Scott off who gives him a pat as he admits abject defeat. 

Stiles cleans up and then hovers outside Derek's room, contemplating whether he should try and say something about what happened. He forgets, momentarily, that he's dealing with a werewolf because as he dithers, Derek pushes his door open with a raised eyebrow. 

"Sorry, I didn't mean to... um." Stiles flails his hands, unsure what he should start apologising for first. Whether it was basically trying to blind-date Derek into a pack or subjecting him to so many unfamiliar wolves at once. Living with Erica and then Scott doesn't really give him an objective view of werewolves as a species. He's aware that they're both more exception than rule when it comes to a lot of aspects.

"It's fine. It was a nice thought," Derek says. He's holding his face in that carefully neutral way he has that won't give Stiles anything.

"You know what I was trying to do?"

"You're not exactly subtle," Derek huffs and he breaks then, smiling gently.

"I should've checked."

"Probably, but I don't think you really understand why it didn't work."

"You weren't ready? I get that."

"It has a lot to do with it, yes. Honestly, when I _am_ ready, I hope it is a group like yours that I can bond with, maybe even them given enough time. It just... it's pretty hard to wedge yourself into an already established pack."

"There isn't a... nothing's established," Stiles says, frowning in confusion.

"Stiles," Derek chides gently. "Yes, there's the rage-douche werewolf packs that form around power, but that's actually more uncommon than people would believe. Most packs are families, whether born or found."

"What are you saying?"

"Packs have to form around a focal point, but that's not always an alpha werewolf."

"Are you saying Scott... or Erica-?"

"You, Stiles. This pack has formed around you. You're the common thread. I can feel it and probably so could the others."

"Erica wanted to try though," Stiles argues, because she'd been excited about the prospect, probably more than anyone.

"She probably did, but it's kind of a theory versus practice thing. As soon as we were all in the same room, she would've known it was wrong, that she already had an alpha."

"God, don't ever tell her that you think I'm her Alpha. She'd punch me to the moon and probably you right after."

"Believe me, she knows."

"Well, Scott doesn't-"

"He's a little bit harder, I'll admit," Derek says, then his eyes flick down and away and he swallows hard as he says, "He's tied to you through a different way, through love."

"Well, yeah, I guess," Stiles says, still a little dubious. "But, I can't help them with control, with the full moon stuff."

"I might not be able to be their alpha yet, but I can still help with that. I'm assuming they're all B&A's," Derek says and Stiles winces at the offhand way Derek's used the term _bitten and abandoned_. 

"Yes," he finally acknowledges quietly.

"Well, full moon's in three days. You can let the others know that we'll make a field trip out of it. Getting out of the city is key. My family... I mean _I_ still own the land my house is on and it's surrounded by a lot of old growth forest. It's perfect for running around and working out any pent up aggression."

"Awesome, I'll bring the funyuns," Stiles says, his night suddenly lifted, just like that. Derek's smiling at him, he has a plan for the others for the full moon and maybe, in the future, a way forward for them as a pack, considering he still doesn't exactly feel ready to accept being a human alpha to a bunch of werewolves.

*

Stiles loves a good road trip, so he was probably unreasonably excited about the werewolves' outing and also mostly invited himself. Derek had been hesitant to include him, but Stiles had pointed out that Lydia was going otherwise Jackson wouldn't and she'd need the company.

He's sitting on the hood of his jeep, watching the others cluster on the other side of the clearing as Derek saunters back over. Derek had been wearing flip-flops that he'd kicked off at some point and Stiles keeps finding himself staring at Derek's bare, hairy toes. 

"It's going to be pretty boring for you," Derek says, spreading his hands and shrugging, like he can talk Stiles out of coming even though it's too late. Stiles flicks his gaze over Derek's shoulder to where Lydia is carefully picking her way around in heels on decidedly uneven ground. 

"Lyds and I are good at keeping each other entertained on a full moon. We're full moon widows together after all," Stiles says. 

"I thought Scott had control?"

"Oh, he would never hurt me, but he kinda gets a bit... jerky just on the day of. He's like the nicest person you could ever meet every other day so it's not much of a hardship to make myself scarce. On full moons he's like a were-Jackson." Even though he's all the way over on the other side, Jackson still turns, flips Stiles off and yells, "Eat me, Stilinski!"

"I even have a werewolf go-bag." Stiles plucks the duffel from where it's slumped against his windshield and proffers it. Derek takes it and opens it to have a look, entertainingly unbothered by his curiosity.

"I would've imagined more clothes and less gummi bears," he says, tossing the bag back at Stiles a little too hard. Stiles is almost knocked clear of the jeep. Derek reaches out immediately and snags him before he can topple, grimacing. "Sorry, the strength gets a little harder to control the closer we get."

"Totally fine," Stiles says, trying not to wheeze.

"We should probably head out," Derek says, plucking at the bottom of his shirt. He hesitates stripping off and Stiles raises his eyebrows at him.

"I swear, I won't make stripper jokes," Stiles says, crossing a finger over his heart. Derek just gives him a dubious look and then as soon as he has his shirt up and over his face, Stiles lustily lets out a, "Bow, chicka, bow-wow!"

"Stiles," Derek groans, face still covered.

"Wow, dinner and a show," Lydia says, appearing by the jeep, tapping a bag of gummi bears that has slid free of Stiles' duffel and giving Derek an appreciative once-over.

Derek's blushing furiously when his face finally emerges from his t-shirt and then he smacks Stiles in the face with it. Stiles splutters, pawing the material off and by the time he's free, Derek's joined the others and they've melted into the dark ring of trees. 

"I wonder what he's waiting for," Lydia muses, tearing open a package of bears and plucking three red ones out to toss into her mouth. "I wonder what _you_ are?"

"I'm basically lying to him. That's not really a great basis for a relationship. When everything's sorted, _then_ I'll tell him I want his werewolf babies."

"You do?"

"Not literally," Stiles sighs. "Just, my fantasies started out in the normal fashion, all hot and heavy but lately I've been picturing us doing normal stuff like shopping and baking together and... ugh, I'm doomed."

"You fantasize about baking together?"

"It always devolves into sex, but the domesticity is there as a lead-up."

"Can’t he tell you're lying though? He's a werewolf."

"I learned from Erica. No direct statements. Keep it vague. I mean, sometimes I forget and he probably picks up on it, but Scott says that people tend to tell white lies all the time for no real reason or to be polite and he's stopped really caring about it because you can't. I figure Derek's the same."

Lydia nods slowly, kicks off her heels so she can pull herself up to sit next to Stiles. The night's eerily quiet, normal small animal sounds absent and Stiles figures that's because of the large predators gambolling about.

"How much land does Derek own?"

"Pretty much as far as we can see. I think the house is further in but I can understand the guy not wanting us to traipse around the ruins of his family home."

"He must have insurance money."

"Probably," Stiles says. He honestly hasn't really thought about it.

"I just mean, why didn't he just buy an apartment?"

"I get the feeling he didn't want to be on his own? From the way he talks, he had a pretty large family. He's probably used to living with people."

The only sound for a while is the crinkle of the gummi bear packet between them, and then they hear a howl, joined by others. Stiles feels gooseflesh chase up and down his arms and he tries to hide his shiver. 

"Even just meeting Derek, Jackson's felt more..." Lydia's expression says she's not sure what word to use, but Stiles can kind of understand. He'd noticed a difference in Erica and Boyd already, Scott too in small ways. 

"Derek says we already have a pack, that I'm kind of an alpha."

"If anyone's an alpha, it's me," Lydia says with a flip of her hair and Stiles chuckles, conceding the point. Lydia studies him for a moment though and then says, "No, I can see what he means. Maybe the other night just cemented it for you guys and that's why Jackson's been different."

"Not you too," Stiles groans, flopping back. Lydia leans over him, blocking out the night sky above with the curtain of her hair. Stiles reaches up to tangle his hands in it, tugging lightly with a smile. 

"You always said your dad was a natural leader. Maybe you are too. I know there's born werewolves. Maybe there's born alphas."

"That's an interesting theory. Oh! If I'm in charge of Jackson, can I tell him to punch himself in the face for all the times he thought it was hilarious to trip me?"

"I don't think you're that kind of alpha. I think you can just... draw people to you so they can find their own way."

"Sounds like a lame super power."

"What would you rather have?"

"X-ray vision," Stiles says, waggling his eyebrows. Lydia sits back and makes sure she uses his sternum to push herself off the jeep again. "Ow!"

"Take me for dinner."

"But gummi bears-"

"Are not dinner. C'mon, there was a bar about a mile back that was advertising counter meals. I feel like red meat."

"Are you sure you're not the alpha?" Stiles asks, also pushing himself off the jeep, much less gracefully than Lydia.


	2. Chapter 2

Derek's taken two steps into the living room before he smacks a hand over his eyes and says, "Oh my god, I'm so sorry."

"Wha-?" Stiles says, words mushy because of the peanut butter cup he's chewing. He looks across at Scott who shrugs and they both look back at Derek who's standing stiffly in the doorway, trying to edge towards his room with his eyes still covered.

"I didn't... you're not..." Derek flounders, starts to uncover his eyes as he speaks but then covers them again.

"Oh, hey, it's fine," Stiles says, realizing what the problem is probably a little belatedly, considering. "The outer-clothing-optional-day-after-full-moon-hangover-Mario-Kart-festapalooza has kind of become a tradition," Stiles adds, looking down at himself and then Scott. They're wearing boxers so it's not like they're completely indecent. It's certainly not grounds for the mortification Derek is displaying and Stiles' hopes that he'll some day be able to be sans pants in Derek's general vicinity takes a knock, especially if he's going to risk life and limb blind-walking into his door to avoid looking at Stiles' body.

"Ow," Derek says flatly when he does, indeed, walk into his door.

"Did you want to maybe-?" Stiles starts to ask but then Derek's door slams shut and music starts blaring from his room. "-join us?"

"What's his problem?" Scott asks, frowning at the shut door.

"I don't know," Stiles whines, tossing his controller across the room and shoving the popcorn bowl aside so he can curl miserably into a ball. Scott rests his elbow on Stiles' head and continues playing because he's good that way.

"That was weird, though."

"Maybe we just took him by surprise," Stiles says, straining to snag a tube of Pringles and making pathetic noises when he can't quite reach it. Scott huffs and stretches a leg out until he can kick the can into Stiles' open grip.

"No, not... it's a scent thing. I'm not sure how to explain it."

"Explain what?"

"He kind of smelled like he was into you or something, but also there was something else going on. Like, disappointment maybe?"

"Great, he was into me until he caught sight of my underwhelming scrawny chicken torso," Stiles laments, bashing himself in the head with the Pringles can. 

"Dude, I don't know. I'm still bad at this stuff," Scott says, plucking the can off Stiles' hand so he smacks himself with a flat palm instead which actually stings worse. "One thing I can tell you though is-" Scott starts to say, but then bites down on his lip, blushing.

"What?" Stiles says, sitting up and shuffling closer to Scott.

"I don't think he was _unimpressed_ with you. Erica told me that some wolves have a saying. That if the music's rockin', don't come a-knockin'."

Stiles looks at Derek's room, the door practically vibrating with thumping bass and says, "What does that... _oh my god_!"

"Stiles," Scott groans.

"You mean he's-"

"No."

"Right this very moment-"

"No."

"Derek's-"

"No, no, no! Stiles, please, as your bro, don't make me picture it."

"Scott, I think I need to go _listen to music_ in your room."

"Dude, gross!" Scott yells and tackles Stiles into the couch. Stiles is laughing and wheezing, Scott rabbit-punching him in the ribs and they both miss when Derek's door opens and then firmly closes again.

*

"Magnificent Mel!" Stiles croons, prostrating himself across the kitchen counter until he's smacked in the head with a bag of bread rolls. Derek's bunched into the corner of the kitchen, looking like he wants to be anywhere else which Stiles thinks is crazy, because usually everyone loves Scott's mom.

Stiles is starting to think maybe Derek has a weird thing against McCalls in general. 

Melissa is being nothing but nice to him, even in the face of his discomfort which is just like her and frankly hilarious. The more awesome she is, the more Derek looks like he wants the kitchen floor to swallow him up. Scott had told his mom what was going on and she'd trooped over with a couple of bags of groceries and her no-nonsense expression, determined to mother Derek within an inch of his life because she was the best.

She keeps sliding Stiles looks like she doesn't exactly approve of his zany scheme, but she's willing to keep her peace about it for now which, the _actual_ best. 

"What is this?" Stiles asks, pulling something leafy and green out of one of the bags and sniffing it.

"It's Kale." When Stiles pulls a face, she props a hand on her hip and raises an eyebrow at him. "Seriously? You're always the one trying to get your dad eating healthier."

"That's my dad. I, as a younger and sturdier Stilinski, am expected to subsist on Funyuns and Fizz Whiz until I'm at least thirty-five."

"Do you cook, Derek?" she asks, turning on him and he actually flinches.

"Uh, some," he says. He looks like he really wants to escape, but Melissa is blocking one side of the kitchen island and Stiles is blocking the other so he's parked in. He's got a coffee cup in hand and his grip on it has gone white-knuckled. Stiles edges around to him until he can pry the cup out of Derek's hands because the ceramic just isn't made to withstand a werewolf Kung Fu grip. Derek looks down at it, like he forgot he was even holding it and his fingers go lax.

"Scott never could, but Stiles is perfectly capable," Melissa says pointedly. When she moves around to start unloading the bags, she leaves a gap and Derek dives for it immediately. Stiles follows him, after shooting Melissa a _hell if I know_ shrug, catching Derek's bedroom door before he can swing it shut.

"Hey, what's-?"

"That's not very fair," Derek says, turning on Stiles, face stormy.

"What's not?" Stiles asks, thrown.

"I get it, alright? You didn't need to do... that."

"Do what? You've gotta finish a thought for me, Derek."

"Stiles, c'mon," Derek sighs, sounding completely exasperated.

"I don't really understand what I've done, but I'm getting the feeling that you're mad at me about something."

"You're getting the _feeling_?" Derek repeats, face now completely blanking out. 

"Seriously, dude. You've gotta let me buy a vowel here."

"Stop being cute."

"I don't know what I've done."

"This isn't working. I thought I could do this. I thought I could handle... but I can't. It might be selfish, but I really just can't."

"Derek," Stiles starts, freezing in place when he goes to move forward and Derek actually jerks back, like the idea of Stiles actually touching him is horrifying. Stiles deflates, picking his hands up and then dropping them again in a resigned way.

"Just, can you leave me alone?" Derek says.

"Sure," Stiles says, backing out of Derek's room and closing the door behind him. Melissa's giving him a confused look when he comes back into the kitchen but then tugs him into a hug when he just gives her tragic eyes. 

"Oh honey," she says into the top of his head when he curls into her in a dejected way.

"I should have just told him," Stiles sighs. "I've messed everything up."

*

"Don't freak out," Scott says when Stiles gets home from work the next day. Stiles watches the way he and Erica fidget together for a moment, eyebrows pulling down.

"What happened?" he asks slowly.

"I came over to tell Scott that I found somewhere for Derek. There's another werewolf at Boyd's bar, Isaac, who just started and his roommate bailed on him, owing three months rent. He was desperate and when Boyd told him about your situation he said he would be happy to have Derek move in."

"That's good... right?" Stiles says slowly, knowing by the miserable way Scott and Erica are clinging together that that isn't the end of the story.

"Derek must have been out in the hall. He heard us talking about it," Scott says.

"Are you serious?" Stiles groans, crossing over to the couch and dropping into it. Admittedly, he hadn't really thought of a way to break the news to Derek about what had happened without losing Derek as a friend and potentially more. He thought he'd have some time to figure it out but it looked like it was all now out of his hands.

"He said it was good, that he'd wanted to move out anyway," Erica says, twisting her hands together.

"Did you tell him everything?" Stiles asks, pressing his thumbs into his eye sockets to try and stave off the sudden headache that had sprung up.

"He didn't really give us a chance," Erica says. "He got Isaac's address, packed his stuff and took off."

"You know where he is, though?" Stiles presses, standing and making grabby hands at Erica.

"Hon, he asked us not to tell you. He wanted some time."

"Oh, right, yeah," Stiles says.

"We'll see him the next full moon. You can come along and explain-"

"I don't think he'll ever want to see me again," Stiles says. Then he smiles wanly at Erica. "He's going to keep hanging with you guys though?"

"He said he would still help us, that by the sounds of it Isaac could use a group to connect with, too."

"That's good," Stiles decides, nodding and reaching for Erica's hand so he can squeeze it. "That's the most important thing."

"Do you want help putting your stuff back in your room?" Scott asks.

"Nah, man, that's okay. I've got it."

"Ugh, I can't handle you being such a sad panda, Stilinski," Erica says, rallying. "How about we go out Friday night?"

"I don't know-"

"C'mon! We can go to Boyd's. You can drink free. I know you love free stuff."

"I do love free stuff," Stiles admits. 

"I'll invite Allison, you let Lydia and Jackson know. We can name it _Pack night_ ," Scott says, starting to smile.

"I thought you weren't in a pack," Stiles says, blinking at him.

"Apparently I am," Scott says, rubbing a hand over Stiles' head affectionately. "I guess sometimes it's not optional."

"Are you saying I'm your Alpha?" Stiles asks, smirking.

"Never!" Scott crows, plucking Stiles off the couch and holding him upside down until Stiles squawks and promises that Scott never has to call him Alpha.

*

"What am I drinking?" Lydia asks, making a face after she steals Stiles' glass.

"You're supposed to be plying me with booze, not taking it away from me," Stiles whines, making pathetic motions at his cocktail that Scott had gotten for him. It's a ridiculous concoction, bright green with three paper umbrellas and a tiny plastic monkey hanging off the rim and Stiles wants it back desperately.

"Are you still milking that?" Lydia asks.

"Am I still _milking_ the thing that happened all of about two seconds ago?" Stiles asks incredulously. "Yes, I think that's exactly what I'm doing."

"P'shaw. We need something tall and handsome to take your mind off things," Lydia decrees, offloading the glass onto another table and taking a hold of Stiles instead to turn him about. "Let's see now," she muses, contemplation in her tone.

"I don't think-"

"Ooh, how about him?" Lydia asks, pointing Stiles at a guy slouched by the bar with a pretty face and narrow hips. 

"Lydia, it's not-" Stiles starts to say again, casting about desperately for someone that will come to his rescue. Scott, or even Erica will suffice but they're both off doing other things, Scott canoodling with Allison and Erica dancing with what looks like five different people at once. Ugh, his friends are the actual worst.

"We didn't bring you here to mope. We brought you to find some solace, and _he_ looks like a long, tall glass of solace."

"You're a terrible wing-man," Stiles says as Lydia starts herding Stiles over to the bar. He goes, but mostly because Boyd has come on shift and he might actually take pity on Stiles and slide him another garishly blue drink so he can drown himself before Lydia can _help_ anymore. "Really, it's embarrassing how bad you are."

"Stiles, I just want you to be happy," Lydia says and for a moment Stiles wants to hug her but then she ruins the sweet moments by hip checking him into the stranger at the bar.

"God, I'm sorry," Stiles splutters. He's honestly clumsy enough without help and he proves that by flailing an arm when he apologizes and knocking the guy's beer clean off the bar top and onto the floor. "Oh, wow. _Really_ sorry," he says.

"That's alright. I saw some woman push you, not your fault," the guy says and Stiles snorts, watching Lydia make a quick getaway into the crowd.

"Can I buy you another?" Stiles offers and at the guy's hesitant look, Stiles quickly adds. "I'm not trying to pick you up or anything. Oh god, not that I wouldn't because you're... I just at the moment...whew, I'm babbling like an idiot."

The guy laughs. He's got a nice smile that lights up his whole face. "Sure. Another Wolf Blend. I'm Isaac by the way."

"Isaac, that's-" Stiles starts to say, meaning to comment on how it's a name he hadn't heard very often, but now twice in a few days but Boyd pats the bar between them and interrupts with, "Stilinski, can't take you anywhere, huh?" Indicating the floor and the smashed bottle with a raised eyebrow and Isaac's whole face freezes.

"Stilinski? As in _Stiles_ Stilinski?" he asks.

"Yeah. I'm sorry, have we met?" Stiles says, blinking. Boyd's throwing a worried glance between them that he doesn't really understand.

"Tell me, do you practice being a dillhole, or does it come naturally?"

"Isaac," Boyd barks sternly and it all clicks into place for Stiles. This isn't a second Isaac, this is the _same_ Isaac that Derek's moved in with. Obviously Derek has also told him the whole sorry tale and Stiles deflates. He's never been the bad guy in someone's story before and he doesn't like how it feels.

"You're Derek's new roommate," Stiles says, not a question, but a confirmation.

"Yeah. Y'know, you really did a number on him. I hope you're happy."

"Look, it's probably too late, but can you tell him that I didn't mean for any of this to happen? I was just trying to do something nice."

" _Nice_? If that's your version of nice-"

There's suddenly an enraged roar from the other side of the bar and the sounds of smashing furniture. It's always a risk in a place that caters to werewolves, especially when they serve wolfsbane infused liquor. Stiles feels someone grab the back of his shirt, and then he's being tugged unceremoniously over the bar top by Boyd. Lydia's suddenly there as well, being handed over by Jackson and Stiles catches her and sets her on her feet. 

"Werewolf brawl. Can this night get any crappier?" Stiles sighs, tugging Lydia closer to him.

"Stiles, I think someone attacked Scott," Lydia says, her eyes wide and cheeks flushed with fear.

"What?" Stiles blurts and then in a heartbeat he's back over the bar. It's suicidal for a human to get anywhere near a werewolf fight. When they're engaged accidents happen and bystanders can get hurt, but Stiles doesn't think about any of that. All he knows is that Scott's been threatened and he's gotta try and help, no matter how stupid it is.

Stiles eels his way through the press of onlookers as there's more smashing and roaring and then suddenly he's out in a clear space, coming to a shocked stop as he registers that it's Scott and _Derek_ that are locked together, both growling and looking like they want to bite each other's faces off.

"What the hell?" Stiles barks, and it's louder than he intended, almost a panicked scream. It has the right effect though, both werewolves freezing and turning to face him, Derek trying unsuccessfully to pull his lips down over his fangs and Scott's hold on Derek's throat loosening. "Just what the hell is going on?"

The fight seems to go out of both of them and they release their remaining grips on each other and slink back under Stiles' flabbergasted gaze. Stiles knew that Derek and Scott had never really gotten along, but he hadn't known they were public brawl-level antagonistic. 

Allison darts forward from where she'd been huddled against Erica and wraps her arms around Scott's torso. For some reason, this makes Derek's eyes that had cooled back to human blaze red again and he bares his teeth. 

"Derek!" Stiles barks and he does the second completely boneheaded thing in as many minutes, stalking forward and taking Derek by the shirt collar to tow him away from Scott. Surprisingly, Derek follows where Stiles leads, the tension leaking out of him as he stumbles in Stiles' wake until they hit the door to the back entrance of the bar and are in the alleyway outside. 

As soon as they're outside, Derek jerks himself away from Stiles with a muted snarl and stalks over to the far wall of the alley, crossing his arms and looking defensive. "I wouldn't have hurt him," Derek grumbles. His teeth are still a little pointed so he has to talk around them and Stiles tries not to think how adorable it is because it's really not the time.

"Just what were you doing then?"

"I don't know. It's none of my business if he cheats on you, right? Or do you two have some kind of _arrangement_?"

Stiles blinks, Derek's words like a cold slap to his face that makes him see, with sudden and horrible clarity, just what might have been going on all this time. Stiles doesn't know how he missed it, how he could've been so dense. "Wait, do you think Scott and I are _together_?"

It's Derek's turn to look confused, brows pulling down. "What, are you two just fuckbuddies or something?"

"No!" Stiles almost screeches and Derek flinches. Stiles puts his hands out, rolls his wrists and then flails his arms. He's not really sure how to articulate in words just how _wrong_ Derek is. "I've never touched Scott's boner. Gross. Okay, one time but we were both half asleep and we bumped into each other in the hallway and-"

"The first day I came to your place you went in to discuss me moving in with Scott in your shower."

"Technically, it's _our_ shower."

"Not anymore."

"No, I mean, Scott's and my shower. Scott's my _roommate_."

"Why did you have a spare room, then?"

"I didn't. I had a bike for sale and I kind of misunderstood when you called and Erica had put up flyers months ago and-"

"Wait," Derek says, holding up his own hands. "Scott's _not_ your boyfriend?"

"No, we're just bros. Totally platonic, disgustingly co-dependent according to some people, bros."

"You play Mario Kart in your underwear with him."

"Just after the full moon. He's a total pig and he usually gets Cheetos dust on _everything_ including me so we stopped wearing clothes after the first time because he ruined my favorite Green Lantern shirt. Usually Erica joins us, sometimes Jackson and Boyd."

"You share a room."

"Not normally. I moved my stuff out of my room so you could have it until we could find you another place."

Derek's eyebrows have been getting higher and higher on his head, until finally they look like they're trying to make a break for freedom. Just as he opens his mouth, the back door of the bar creaks open, spilling out bad hair metal and Scott, Allison, Lydia, Isaac, Jackson and Boyd. 

"He's still alive. I owe you five bucks, McCall," Jackson says, eying Stiles like he might actually be disappointed.

Derek puts a hand to his face and rubs, before pinching the bridge of his nose. "Does someone want to tell me exactly what's been going on, from the beginning?"

"Stiles, take Derek to the all-night diner down the block. Everyone else, back inside," Lydia orders.

"Maybe you _are_ actually the Alpha," Scott says to Lydia as he throws Stiles a worried glance over his shoulder but retreats with everyone else. 

Stiles gestures down the street where the blue and red lights of a diner are reflecting on the wet road. 

"Shall we?"

*

They sit in a booth across from each other. Derek accepts coffee while Stiles asks for a hot chocolate and then Stiles lays out the whole story, doing Derek the courtesy of not skipping the embarrassing bits. The only thing Stiles does hold back is his horrible, hopeless crush because he's not sure it's something he should be lumping Derek with right now.

Derek just turns his coffee cup around in his hands for a few minutes when Stiles is done, feeling exhausted and holding his head up on a fist, watching Derek mull everything over. Worst case scenario, Derek walks out without saying anything and Stiles never sees him again. Considering Stiles' best case is that Derek _yells_ at him and then leaves so at least Derek gets a little closure, he doesn't have much hope. 

"There was kind of a snowball effect with the lying," Stiles offers when the silence becomes too much for him to resist the urge to fill it. Derek makes a non-committal noise and Stiles finally reaches across the table, stopping short of touching Derek even though he aches to. "Do you want to, um, let me know on a scale of one to Defcon five just how angry you are?"

"I should be angry," Derek says finally and Stiles perks up a bit because the _should_ makes Stiles hope that Derek isn't. "But I'm just more..." Derek releases his coffee cup to make a helpless gesture with his hands.

Stiles suddenly realizes that there _is_ something worse than Derek angry, and that's Derek _sad_. 

"Oh god I'm... I mean I should have told you but I... there was the mopey face and me picturing you in the ruins of your family home with a little makeshift werewolf stove-"

"Stiles, it's fine. It's funny actually," Derek says and Stiles' mouth closes so fast there's an audible click. The last thing he expected was for Derek to be amused, but despite his words he doesn't look it, _at all_. 

"I'm confused," Stiles says slowly. "Why aren't I getting punched into the stratosphere right now?"

"I mean, I knew I was pathetic, but I hadn't really, truly envisioned just how much."

"Derek-?"

"Seriously, I thought I didn't have a chance with you because of Scott, but it turns out all along that it was because you felt _sorry_ for me." Derek sits back with a bitter little laugh and Stiles fish-mouths at him for a moment, because, what?

"What?" Stiles splutters.

"There's this thing, all the books call it the _mate-drive_ ," Derek says, sitting up a little more, talking to the space over Stiles' shoulder rather than to him like it's too hard to meet Stiles' gaze. "There's been all these studies about it, lots of essays and scientists trying to figure it out but the best explanation I've heard is that there are two parts to a werewolf, human and wolf. When you meet someone sometimes you're attracted to them from your human side but the wolf isn't so sure. Then sometimes the _wolf_ is what's drawn but deep down you know they're terrible for you."

Stiles opens his mouth, but Derek holds up a hand, finishes with, "Then there's when you find someone, and it's fucking _rare_ , you find someone that appeals to both. There's such a perfect balance that you can't ever imagine being without them."

"What are you saying?" Stiles asks, more out of disbelief than because he doesn't understand.

"That first day, before you even opened the _door_ , I could smell you. You were like the ocean after the rain and my mom's peanut butter cookies and..." Derek clenches his hands into fists on the tabletop, looking down at them. "Then you opened the door and your eyes, your mouth, you funny little nose-"

"My nose is funny?"

"Stiles," Derek says flatly and Stiles mimes zipping his lips, but then he can't help but touch his nose too and for a second Derek really looks like he wants to smile. "You were smart, funny, also kind of an asshole but I liked that. You were perfect, my balance. I liked you much more than I knew what to do with so of course you already had Scott who was perfect for _you_."

"He's my soul bro," Stiles says loyally.

"I get that now, but you gotta admit there's a good reason I could misunderstand what was going on."

Stiles groans and smacks a hand over his face, because to an outside observer of course Scott would've looked like his boo. Disregarding the fact that Stiles invaded the bathroom while Scott was showering the very first day, they basically shared a room, played almost-naked video games and were generally free in their affection. Stiles racked his brain but he couldn't think of a time Allison had been over after Derek had entered their lives. It would've cleared up the confusion a lot sooner if she hadn't stopped coming over because she'd claimed their whole apartment smelled like feet.

"Well, there's a _reason_ I would have no idea you were into me," Stiles says, flailing his hands to encompass the entirety of Derek's being. Derek looks down at himself, back up and he's frowning.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, I'm not exactly... hot, okay?" Stiles says. 

"Are you really fishing for compliments right now?" Derek asks, but then his eyes narrow when Stiles looks away, picking at his nails. "Hang on, you don't honestly believe that, do you?"

"Kinda?"

"Stiles, I'm not sure who did a number on you, but you're wrong."

"C'mon Derek. You look like you were plucked out of the pages of Fangboy and I'm me."

"You read Fangboy?"

"Dude, no one _reads_ Fangboy. I'm not going to pretend my subscription is about the articles."

"So, you like me because I'm a werewolf," Derek says, a kind if tight and disappointed understanding crossing his face that Stiles has to remove immediately.

"No, I like you because you have ridiculous hair and bunny teeth and you're accidentally funny. Like, even _you_ look surprised when you make a joke."

"Stiles-"

"You're clever, shrewd and I don't know what's going on with your eye color but I'm both fascinated and turned on by it. Yes, it's a definite sexy bonus that you're a werewolf but that's only a part of it. You seemed to hate Scott on sight which I get now but you still wanted to help him and the rest of my friends even though you weren't going to be getting anything out of it. I can't exactly explain it but... my brain is quieter around you so maybe you're my balance too."

"So, we're both idiots," Derek surmises and Stiles grins at him. This time when he reaches across the table he picks up Derek's hand and Derek lets him, lacing their fingers together. 

"Pretty much."

Derek draws Stiles' hand up to his mouth, pressing a lingering kiss to his knuckles that makes Stiles tingle all the way down to his toes. "I don't want to leave Isaac in the lurch again, but I wish I still lived with you," Derek says and Stiles can feel the burn of Derek's blush against the skin of the back of his hand. "Too soon?"

"No way, and I had an idea about that. I think we need a pack house," Stiles says, smiling brightly and Derek looks startled and tentatively pleased.

"That includes me?"

"Apparently we're a package deal from here on out."

"I can live with that."

"Good, because I'm starting to figure out that I can't live without you."

"I can't live without your epic morning bedhair," Derek says, smirking.

"Douche, it's a work in progress," Stiles says, fluffing at his hair with his free hand.

Derek glances either side of them but the diner is basically empty, so he pushes up and leans across the table to kiss Stiles soundly. Stiles slumps backwards, almost sliding off the bench seat and to the floor when Derek releases him. 

"Did you guys need anything else?" the waitress asks, having appeared out of nowhere and looking amused.

"Nope, think I'm set for life," Stiles says and adds, _Derek being a blushy dufuss_ to the list of things he likes.

*

Stiles thinks maybe the pack house was a mistake when he wakes up to find not only Boyd, but Erica, Isaac and Scott all perched on the end of his and Derek's bed the morning after they all move in.

"Dude, Alpha them out of here," Stiles groans.

"I'm not the Alpha in this scenario," Derek says, his voice muffled because he's talking with his face mashed into the curve of Stiles' ribs.

"Fine," Stiles grumbles, glares at the hovering werewolves at his feet and says, "You guys have thirty seconds to scram before you get a full moon you aren't ever going to be prepared for."

**Author's Note:**

> This fic has been posted in a series of snippets on [my tumblr](http://kellifer-k.tumblr.com/) and I will probably continue to do this as I write but I've had a few people ask me to upload for easier reading so tada!


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